


Emotions and Logic

by Samsinater



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Female Protagonist, Fluff and stuff, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Sappy romantic trash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsinater/pseuds/Samsinater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody's perfect, and everybody's different. Some people just happen to be different in ways you'll never fully understand.</p><p>But that's okay. Because they'll never fully understand you, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Different

You had never intended to fall in love in college.

It wasn't that you were uninterested in romance -- you _very much_ had a soft spot for anything mushy and cushy and chest-achingly soul-warmingly fluffy and good -- but the prospect of letting your heart wander free while you juggled seven classes struck you as... unwise, to say the least.

Romance, despite your passion for it, had never exactly been your strong suit. And even if it had, just meeting the basic needs of a good relationship without letting your grades slip seemed too much a hassle. You had long resigned yourself to nights spent buried in textbooks, rather than in the arms of someone wonderful, so you were more than ready to continue the tradition once you had ascended the academic rungs to higher learning.

But then you met someone new and, like the bleeding heart fool that you always were, you let yourself care.

You never would have even met him if you hadn't stayed after class. All you ever intended was to finish writing down the last scraps of information on the projector's final slide, the only remaining clue a lecture had just happened as even the teacher walked out; and you would have done so perfectly peacefully, if not for a set of circumstances that just happened to pluck at your heartstrings like a seasoned cellist bleeding the blues in your rib cage.

It wasn't quite so unforgivable as love at first sight, but the sight you saw definitely caught your emotional interest. A kid you felt obligated to call 'kid' purely because of his height was the subject of an attempt at what you guessed to be bullying -- an attempt, it's worth specifying, because he was just... completely unphased by it. Not that you realized it at first; you just heard a growing commotion, and then you were shedding veritable heaps of pity before you had even finished looking up from your notebook.

"Do you think you're funny?" the spitting image of a college jock impetuously asked the boy who you now realized was actually shorter than you. At least two dozen other students sat nearby, all of them closer than you, and none of them saying or doing anything about it.

"No, not especially," came the straight-faced reply. It was honest and without a snippy or sarcastic tone, let alone tangible fear, and it just served to make the guy wearing his high school jersey angrier.

You acted before you even realized you still knew how to talk. "There you are!" you cheerily called over as you stood. For some reason, only the jock noticed your approach; the kid just continued looking in his aggressor's direction, as if hung up on waiting for a response. "We're still on for our study date tonight, right Neil?"

You didn't actually know his name, but if the burly guy didn't either, you had a legitimate chance at defusing this.

"Who're you? His girlfriend?" God, you hated the way he sneered that at you -- but your smile didn't falter, even when something in your chest did.

"Nope; just a dedicated study partner." By now, 'Neil' realized you had been addressing him before, or at least decided he wanted to see what Tall Dark and Ugly was looking at, and turned at you. "You ready to go, Neil?" you asked him directly, still smiling what you hoped was a comforting smile.

His look of confusion was small, but vivid, and it struck a chord of worry within you. It was as though he could not read the situation at all, and further, had no idea you were trying to help bail him out of it.

But thankfully, before he could politely inform you, "My name is not Neil," the big guy took note of how he was now outnumbered, and turned tail. He muttered a 'whatever' and complemented it with a grunt that implied 'this isn't over' as he walked away, but you knew his type, and how to dissuade them if you hid your fear. You'd had plenty of experience with his kind in high school, after all.

The kid really did tell you his name wasn't Neil, too, just as straightforward as before. To avoid further confusion, he even told you his actual name -- Liam -- and proceeded to roll out a carefully enunciated explanation about how he did not know who Neil was, and that you were probably talking to the wrong person, because he had no recollection of agreeing to study with you tonight.

His lack of understanding was... weird, for sure, but also a little endearing in its own way. As if you had just found some socially-inept android who still didn't quite grasp the finer points of things like conversational context and situational awareness, and you got to be the one to educate him where his creators had not.

But before you could explain that you were just trying to be a good Samaritan, Liam caught you off guard. It was only one sentence, but it was one that conveyed something just a little bit beyond anything you ever would have expected, least of all from someone you just met. "If you so desire," he said simply, and in your mind sweetly, "I will be your study partner if you cannot find Neil."

That was probably where it really started. You pitied him, you knew his name, and now without so much as asking yours in return he was offering to fill a void that he didn't even realize never actually existed. Something deep inside you -- your traitorous heart, in all likelihood -- gave way at that moment, and you never really got around to sealing the breach.

You probably should have said no. You probably should have explained that Neil was not real, and that you were never under the impression Liam was anyone you already knew. You probably should have laughed it off, told him you were just a bit of an airhead, and walked away apologizing for the confusion. In all honesty, you probably should have done a lot of things.

You did none of them, however. Instead you just said, "I'd like that," and meant it.

What, exactly, made you accept his offer still escapes you. Maybe the way his half-lidded eyes seemed so luminous and deep was what ensnared you, or maybe it was the short choppy hair that looked like it had never seen a comb in its life, but was still immaculately shampooed and shiny. It might have even been the outfit that was simple-but-serviceable -- plaid pajama pants and a light grey hoodie, plus a no-nonsense backpack slung around his shoulders -- and if wasn't any one trait then maybe it was all of them together, and how it made him resemble an innocent child that had just woken up, too frazzled to be concerned with anything in this school, least of all a bullheaded bruiser.

Regardless, something in you told you to say yes, and despite the trouble you knew it might bring, you listened. Besides, if Liam really was only half-awake right now -- a state you would not at all blame him for, given the life-sucking environment you were both enrolled in -- he could easily come to his senses and let you know later that, actually, studying with a stranger wasn't in his plans after all. You were practically expecting it; it wasn't like people were nice or courteous to you on a daily basis, after all, and it most certainly would not have been the first time someone cancelled on you.

So when he did show up, knocking at your home's front door so gently that you almost didn't hear it, you were more than a little surprised. Maybe more so than someone who had freely disclosed their apartment's address had any right to be; but to your credit, you quickly bounced back.

"Sorry for being late," he apologized as you welcomed him inside, evidently eyeing the cat-themed wall clock you'd hung in the entryway.

"It's fine," you assured him, before realizing for yourself it was only 8:01. Did... he seriously consider a minute's difference to be late? He didn't sound like he was joking, and in noting that, you felt a soft pang in your heart; poor kid must have been raised in a household with a lot of tight expectations if he really thought that kind of stuff mattered. It was something you empathized with.

You led him through the small living room, offhandedly apologizing for the scholarly coffee table clutter you felt no obligation to clean up whilst living alone, to the open dining room which consisted solely of a small circular table surrounded by four matching chairs. Several of your textbooks were already in neat disarray on top, each accompanied by their own notebook, and enough of them open that it was unclear which one you had been reading from last. "So, was there anything in particular you needed to study for?"

Liam blinked. "Anything... I need to study for?" he repeated. You felt a little disheartened when he looked lost again, as though, despite so willingly agreeing to study with you, he had never actually done it. "How would I know?" he asked, seemingly genuinely interested.

"Oh, um, well, are there any classes you're having trouble with, or that you don't feel confident in?"

He visibly thought about it for a moment, eyes wandering ever so slightly upward before gliding back down to yours. "No."

You started to wonder if this was some kind of dumb prank, but dismissed the thought as you afforded him the benefit of the doubt. If nothing else, he still sounded completely sincere.

"Alright, um... then, if you don't mind me asking, why'd you agree to study with me if you don't, er, need to study?"

Evidently Liam was more prepared for this question, because he answered it immediately. "People usually ask me to study with them because they want my help. Like Bruce." It took you a moment to realize you recognized the name -- you saw it on the jersey of the turd who had been harassing Liam.

Another pang gripped you, but you quickly swallowed the lump it made in your throat. "That's... really generous of you," you told him, and it wasn't technically a lie, even if you wanted to say something else. Liam just shrugged, like it was no more a hassle than someone asking him for the time of day.

The two of you settled down in the chairs closest to your math textbook, open to a horrible chapter about physics and how they affected pulleys and slopes and other garbage that had no direct correlation to your major. You pointed to a particularly nasty problem, involving two elevators with differently-sized boxes and spheres inside them that just made you frustrated no matter how much you tried to "work it out" with a drawing. Liam looked at it, and then, as if staring at the answer key, began listing off the values of all the relevant variables, each in order of their need in the problem, until he concluded with the answer.

He... really wasn't disproving your initial impression of him being a robot. Wow.

"Uh, thanks," you told him earnestly, "but how did you get those numbers?"

He blinked at you again. "You do not just want the answers?"

Something twisted a little inside you at that. Not for your sake, but for his; how many people had he tutored, you wondered, if he expected you to not even want to understand the material? "I -- no, I wanna know how to do it, too. I mean, I don't _want_ to exactly, but I have to if I'm gonna pass on my own."

That seemed to resonate with him -- at least, as much as it could, while his face remained blank as ever. If his resting expression wasn't a sort of tired neutrality, you might have found it creepy, but as it stood, the way he looked ready to yawn and rub the sleep out of his eyes at any given moment was almost... cute.

He led you through the problem more extensively, showing a slight difficulty with writing down the steps for the numbers that he could effortlessly piece together in his head, but otherwise producing a more-than-helpful explanation of it all when he was done.

A couple more tough problems were handled in much the same way, the easier ones equally supported just by his confirmation of the answers you got on your own, and before you knew it the stuff that normally required a minimum hour of groaning, head-scratching, and furiously erasing was over in just under twenty minutes.

You couldn't help but feel a little bad, though; he was helping you for nothing, and if the few words he'd spoken were any indication, that was something he had done numerous times over for who-knows-how-many ungrateful students. "Hey, can I get you anything to eat?" you offered, since it was unlikely you could tutor him on anything in return.

Blink. "Why?"

"Because you're doing something for me, and I'd like to return the favor?" you explained, uncertainty leaking into your voice at being questioned.

Liam made an expression you belatedly realized you were already becoming accustomed to, as it had been consistently following the similarly-recurring blinks, pauses, and questions: a sort of soft enlightenment in his eyes and a gentle, almost imperceptible nod that conveyed his understanding. "Alright," he acknowledged in a polite, 'that seems reasonable' tone, and went silent. You nearly repeated your original question, as it seemed like he had forgotten you offered to get him food, when he asked, "Do you have any juice?"

"Uh..." you said as you thought, because you were pretty certain you did not. "I have fruit, which I can turn into juice. Or, at least, into a smoothie. Would that be alright?"

His response was delayed as he mulled it over, but Liam's voice was as level as ever. "Yes."

A short back-and-forth slowly established what fruits he would be okay with in a smoothie as you headed for the fridge, which you ultimately realized was 'all of them.' You got him to be a little more specific when you asked which fruits he _liked_ , which turned out to be bananas, strawberries, and grapes. It had been a while since you picked up any grapes, but having two out of three wasn't bad.

You retrieved the ingredients you needed from what you had and quickly set to work, starting with the stuff on the cutting board, but it got a little unnerving as Liam quietly watched you chop up the strawberries. You managed to get through three before feeling the need to fill the silence with small talk. "So, are you this good with all your subjects?"

"Yes." If it was a point of pride, his voice didn't show it.

You gave an awkward chuckle, although to say you expected a different answer would have been less than truthful. You were just kind of hoping you could get him to prove he was human. "Straight-A student, huh?"

"Yes." The monotonous way he repeated himself made it sound as though he was literally playing a recording on repeat. If he didn't blink every so often, you'd have no reason to believe he _wasn't_ an android.

"Your friends must be really envious, then," you said with another, more stifled laugh.

"I have no friends."

You almost cut your finger off. "You," you started, turning to him, but stopped as the words sank in. With social skills as... _modest_ as his, it wasn't really surprising that he hadn't befriended anyone -- but that didn't make it any less heartbreaking to hear. "That's awful."

"Is it?" He sounded genuinely curious, which did not reflect an especially great change to his voice, but it was the closest semblance to vocalized emotion you'd gotten out of him yet.

"Yeah! Friends are the people you rely on to make you happy, and help you through tough times. The people you open up to and do nice things for because you just want to see them smile. If you don't have friends, you don't have people you can be yourself around."

Liam's head tilted to the side for a moment, then righted itself again. "Can I not be myself if I am alone?"

"You... can, but always being alone can get, er, lonely." It was kind of a crappy answer, but he seemed to legitimately consider it, as if evaluating a philosophical ideal. "And, you know," you added, "having friends that you do nice things for means having people who do the same for you, too."

He produced a thoughtful, 'Hm,' and by the way his gaze began to idly wander it seemed safe to assume he would be busy thinking about it for a while. The moment you tried to quickly finish cutting up the strawberries, however, his eyes immediately flicked down and resumed watching you. You did your best to ignore the shiver that sent down your spine, but failed miserably; it just wasn't something you could easily dismiss.

"You, uh, really have a fascination with these berries, huh?" you asked with a forced smile.

"I am counting them."

Now it was your turn to blink. "Oh," you said. A fair portion of your worry evaporated into relief. "Is counting a hobby of yours?"

"Counting calories is."

.....

Wow.

You laughed a little, but more at yourself than Liam; it made enough sense, you supposed, and at least now you had reason to believe he wasn't fixated on, say, the knife in your hands. "You watching your weight, then?"

"Just trying to be healthy." It was... a surprisingly reasonable answer. A human answer, moreover. Maybe there was some hope left for him yet.

Cutting up the remaining strawberries, as well as a couple bananas, was easier with that off your mind. You soon dumped your fruit, milk, and yogurt into the blender, let it do its thing for a minute, and poured a glass for both you and Liam.

"Can I ask you a question?" Liam asked when you handed him his drink, and it surprised you purely because, until now, you were convinced he only spoke when spoken to.

"You just did, silly," you informed him as you sat down. You almost laughed when his eyes widened at that, as if enlightened by a revelation from God. He really knew just how to get caught up on all the small details in life. "Go ahead," you encouraged, "what's your question?"

He took a moment to pry himself from the reevaluation of his life you must have inadvertently put him in, and addressed you formally. "Do you think," he said carefully, "you could be my friend?"

Something happened in your chest, but you did your best not to focus on it. "Of course!" you blurted, maybe a little too energetically. You immediately downplayed it by adding, "But there are probably better choices than just a new study partner, haha."

"You are the first study partner to offer me something in return. That makes you the best choice so far."

...Oh. There was something a little stunning about hearing that, even though you had no trouble believing in the selfishness of lazy students. "No one else ever offered you anything?"

Liam shook his head. He didn't look sad about it -- but then, he didn't look much of anything.

"And you know you don't have to, right? Not for free, at least."

"I know. But I have always been told not to be afraid to ask for help, should I need it," he explained. "So, it would stand to reason that there must exist people to provide that help." There was a certain respectable nobleness in his reasoning, even though his voice did its best to sound as cold and unfeeling as an iceberg. Moreover, you wondered how someone could care so easily, despite not sounding like they cared about anything -- never mind the people so carelessly willing to take advantage of it. "Why are you crying?" he asked before you realized you were still thinking about it, and it was only then you noticed your cheek was now wet.

"Oh, n-nothing," you tried to assure him, but--

"People do not cry over nothing," he asserted. "Crying is a sign of distress." For all the emotion Liam lacked, he refused to let you dismiss yours.

"...I just think it's sad no one else has ever repaid you," you told him. It was the truth.

You could tell the idea of showing 'distress' for someone other than yourself was an idea he had to grapple with -- but Liam mentally processed it as quickly as anything else that hung him up. "I think," he said slowly, "in turn, that makes you a better choice for a friend."

You were half-surprised he didn't phrase it as 'more optimal choice,' or 'more effective,' but the signs that he actually might not be circuits and servos on the inside were more than welcome. "Thanks," you offered sincerely, and wiped away the tear that had betrayed you. "Do you mind if we get back to studying?"

"No." For some reason, the clipped answer made you smile. Maybe because curt responses comprised half of everything he said, or maybe because what it meant was so much kinder than the word used to convey it.

Either way, you were happy to get right down to it. The workload that would usually leave you staying up past midnight was finished before ten, and while you couldn't shake the feeling you were taking advantage of him, Liam genuinely didn't seem to mind. He even explicitly told you he didn't when you asked. "Especially not," he assured you, "if we are now friends."

You let him know that, yes, you were definitely his friend now, and that wasn't something you intended to take lightly. He thanked you, and for a brief moment you got caught up in imagining him smiling as he said that, because you were curious what he looked like happy. But it occurred to you that, maybe, he actually was happy when he said that. Maybe, he didn't show it the same way as other people.

Maybe, he was just... different.


	2. Curious

Having established both friendship and a need to make it meaningful with the person who saved you a significant amount of academic frustration, offering Liam a ride home seemed the most sensible course of action when it came time for him to leave. It was an offer you quickly turned into a guarantee when he not only told you how far away his own apartment was, but that he had _walked_ to your place from there.

His assurances of how "It was only thirty six minutes," and "I do not mind the exercise," failed to dissuade you. He had already saved you literal hours of work; the least you could do was take ten minutes out of your day to drive him home.

The ride itself was relatively quiet, as Liam had an apparent aversion to speaking up without direct provocation, but you found enough social satisfaction in just being able to look over at him in the passenger seat -- to which he always responded by looking from the road over to you. He had a different idea of how the world worked, of this you were now certain, and although you didn't always get it, it wasn't a bad thing. Most people (yourself included) would probably feel the need to awkwardly grin or laugh, or even start a conversation, if someone kept looking over at them during an extended period of silence together.

But not Liam. If he wasn't content to be quiet, then he saw no explicit need to break the silence with talk; and you could respect both possibilities. Plus, you discovered that if you smiled when you looked over, you could get him to smile too! Maybe not a particularly big or impressive smile, in fact one that was very small and modest, but just the fact that he did was enough to ignite a spark in your heart.

A kind of curiosity wormed its way into you by the time you actually reached Liam's home, likely because you now had an extra two hours to kill. It had, after all, very much become a habit for you never to fall asleep before midnight, but without any homework to occupy it, your mind was free to wander.

"Hey, Liam..." you said slowly as he unbuckled his seat belt. He turned to face you, one hand still resting on the now-retracted buckle. "Do you think I could... see the inside of your apartment?"

His brow furrowed a bit at that, but he otherwise seemed to give the question as much consideration as anything else. Maybe... too much consideration, actually, as he turned to look at the apartment complex visible out the passenger door window. Eventually, he spoke: "Not from here, no."

You blew a raspberry at him. "I mean _can_ I though? As in, would that be alright with you?"

"Oh," he said with tangible, if subdued realization. "Yes."

Just a little bit giddy, you quickly unbuckled your own seat belt to lean over and pull him into a one-armed hug. "Thank you!" you told him earnestly.

Neither resisting nor hugging you back, he returned a placid, "You are welcome," and waited patiently for you to release him before getting out of your car. His movements were surprisingly calm, not shaken up by what was, admittedly, maybe a teensy bit forceful of a grapple on your part, though you were happy knowing you hadn't jostled him too hard.

He led you to his front door, the third one down on the second level, and fluidly unlocked and opened it with a key you never saw him pull from his pocket. His movements were quick, effortless, and so gracefully precise that he didn't even need to stop walking at any point between approaching the door and pushing it open.

Once inside, he crouched down at the point where the tile from the door met the interior carpet. A single tug at the laces of both of his shoes allowed him to slip them off, and allowed you to realize he had been wearing hiking boots, of all things.

"You, uh, do a lot of mountain climbing?" you asked jokingly.

It took him a moment -- and you helpfully pointing to his boots -- for him to understand. "Oh. No, the durability just made them the most cost-efficient choice for my purposes."

"Mm," you said with a sage nod. "Your purposes of...?"

"Walking."

"Ah. That... makes sense." It was an honest statement on your part. You just kind of wished his boots were a little more pleasing to the eye.

You placed your own shoes beside his, their pink and red hearts looking less happy with dull browns keeping them company, but they could just suck it up; they were guests, after all.

Shoes aside, you noted nothing filled the entryway, nor the connecting hallway in both the directions it ran. The living room, which you followed Liam into, had a simple couch, coffee table, and arm chair, but all of them looked perfectly pristine -- as though no one had ever so much as breathed on them before. An island counter running out of the wall of the hallway you came down showed the kitchen was equally clean, with only a toaster marring the otherwise empty counters.

"You really keep things tidy around here, huh?" In all honesty, it was a trait you wished you had more of.

"I clean up after myself."

"It shows." While you had his attention, you pointed toward the kitchen space over the island counter. "Mind if I, um, take a closer look?"

"No." It was a convincing answer.

Closer inspection revealed not even the sink had any grime to speak of, only a blue sponge -- dry and in mint condition -- and a slightly-emptied bottle of dish soap, which was thus far the only clear sign this kitchen had ever been used before. The stove top, microwave, fridge, and even the parts of flooring that met the bottom cupboards were just as spotless, though after an extended search you did find one extra piece of evidence that time still passed here: if you jumped and quickly swiped your hand across the top of the fridge as you fell, you could get a very light smattering of dust on your hand.

Liam, for his part, showed no signs of surprise, confusion, or uneasiness at what you were doing, though you felt self-conscious enough to explain yourself anyway. "I, uh. I'm just really curious about your living space," you told him, holding up your slightly-dusted hand as proof.

He nodded, and for a moment you were worried he might be silently judging you when he didn't say anything, but then: "Curiosity is a respectable trait."

Something small happened in your chest at that. It was funny, though: if anyone could imply they respected someone because they had smacked their hand against a refrigerator, it was definitely Liam.

The food actually stored in the kitchen was not as scarce as the kitchen itself led you to expect, but it did display a startling lack of variety. Big bags of uncooked rice filled up one cabinet, while bags of flour and sugar occupied another, all of them store-brand and in bulk packaging. The freezer had several frozen dinners, each containing only salisbury steaks, while the actual fridge section looked the most normal, save for the abundance of fruit. In fact, besides a gallon of milk and a carton of eggs, you could not find anything _but_ fruit in the fridge, a different type occupying each shelf.

"You've, uh, really got your diet down to a T, huh?"

"It is a work in progress, actually. I am still attempting to find the most calorie-efficient foods, respective to their cost, while still maintaining a healthy diversity."

Right. Because nine foods constituted a "healthy diversity." Although, admittedly, you had little room to talk, sitting almost completely on the opposite end of the spectrum; you typically bought only whatever you had a craving for, which often led to an exciting variety of foods entering your home that you sometimes forgot about until they were a smelly mess in the back of your fridge.

"Well, do these foods make you happy, at least?"

Liam tilted his head at you. "Knowing that I am not wasting money makes me happy."

"Nonono dude -- I'm talking flavor and edibility. Like, let's say buying flour is the most calorie-cost-whatever food, hands down, s'all good in the hood and then some; that still doesn't make it any more tasty to dump in your mouth and call a meal."

"Well, no," he admitted, and for a moment you fooled yourself into thinking he might have seen the light. "I usually add water and sugar first, as well as--"

"Okay," you interrupted, holding up your hand, and walked over to him. "Here's your head," you said informatively whilst pointing to his forehead, "and here's the point I was trying to make." You held out the hand that still had some dust on it, before slowly moving it in a wide arc over him. The plane noises you made as this transpired did not seem to especially impress or enlighten Liam, but for his part, he dutifully observed your hand for the duration of its flight. "See, what I'm getting at is, you could be eating the most cost-effective food known to man, but that doesn't make it _taste_ any good."

Liam's brow furrowed, as though he could tell he was missing something, but despite your explanations still couldn't grasp what. "Is... taste more important than calories and price?" he finally asked.

"Uh... I mean, I don't know if it's _more_ important, but it's definitely worth considering. It's a quality of life thing, y'know? If you can stand eating nothing but cheap-o store brand stuff, that's cool and all, but if there's no smile on your face once your belly's full, you're doin' it wrong."

"...Hm." You felt unsure whether he actually understood you well enough to take your words to heart, but then, if his taste buds really didn't mind boring and bland foods, maybe you didn't have any place to tell him to try tingling them in place of saving money. He kept quiet long enough that you considered retracting a few statements, but spoke again before you could. "Admittedly..." he said slowly, still working out who-knows-what in his mind. "...the second cheapest brand of rice seemed slightly more palatable when I tried it."

You snorted, but offered Liam a smile and a pat on the back anyway. "Hey, it's a start."

He looked up at you, mirroring your smile again when he saw it, but then forced to drop it as he spoke: "Was this why you wanted to see my home? To evaluate its stores of food?" It wasn't an accusation; once again, he just sounded... curious, you realized with another internalized spark. The kid really knew his morals, and how to stick to them.

"Not exactly," you told him honestly. "I just... wanted to see what kind of life you live. You know, get a little glimpse into the inner workings of the guy who saved me so much trouble in only one night of work."

Liam nodded, though he kept his gaze on you. "Did I seem too unsuitable to ask directly?"

"I," you defended immediately, refusing to acknowledge the encroaching heat in your cheeks, "just wanted to get an unbiased look at it, is all. And, y'know," you added as your hand crept shyly behind your head, "I might not've exactly thought about that when I was trying to imagine what your apartment looked like from my car."

"It is fine," he assured you, apparently picking up on your brief distress. "I admire your desire to learn, even when only about myself."

"Wh-- _only?"_ you retorted immediately, visibly catching him by surprise. "Dude, you're like, the smartest nicest guy I've met to date; you're no 'only.'"

He smiled at that, for what you realized was the first time without you smiling first. "I apologize; my values of self-worth do not always match up with that of others." His eyes trailed down, modesty incarnate, and you couldn't help but feel for him.

"Aww, Liam. Hey, c'mere," you said softly, and pulled him into a full hug. "Those 'others' don't know what they're missin'. And I'm not just saying that as your new friend; you're seriously, like, a friggin' wizard when it comes to pulling factual information out of your head, and you're _leagues_ more polite about it than the typical egotistical brainiac."

"I try not to boast about my abilities," Liam told you with a small voice, and what seemed to be hints of pink on his cheeks. Apparently he could do emotions after all; it just took some good old fashioned affection to pry him out of his shell.

"And that's part of what makes you so cool," you told him, lightly flicking him on the nose. "In fact, tell you what: you ever need anything at all, just tell me, and I'll do my best to help you with it. It's the least I could do so long as you're still offering to help me with my classes."

"Oh. Thank you," he said in a voice a little closer to normal, though if you had any say in it there was a smile riding on his words. "I will be sure to..." He paused, and as you looked at him, you noticed his eyes lose focus for a moment. They quickly returned, and he looked at you with a dedicated expression. "Actually, I do know of something."

You smiled brightly at him, happy just to be able to help him back. "What is it?"

"I would like to move in with you."

...Oh.

"Oh," you said out loud, when just thinking it didn't seem like enough.

Admittedly, you hadn't been expecting that kind of response when you made the offer. "Uhhh..." you started, and then trailed off, producing what you imagined to be the human equivalent of a steady dial tone. As far as you could tell, Liam was as serious as he'd ever been, which made his statement even more challenging to process, if you were honest. Your only saving grace was that your mind was too stunned for your heart to begin fluttering.

"...I mean," you eventually pulled yourself together, "shoot, um, at least let me buy you dinner first or, uh, _something_ a little bit in-between steps there."

He shot you the most confused look he'd mustered to date, so much so that he appeared to be on the verge of sneezing. "You already gave me a smoothie," he offered.

"Yeah, but that's not really... the _reason_ I gave it to you wasn't..." You fumbled, beginning to trip over the thoughts in your head. "...I mean, I guess we don't have to do any of the stuff that, uh, normally comes before... that, but..." You looked him in the eyes, desperately trying to pull some sense from his soul, and just seeing a lost kid for your trouble. "...well, no offense to you or anything, but I'm just having trouble seeing the benefits of doing that kinda thing so soon."

Liam still looked confused, but his eyes seemed to shimmer at something you said. He spoke just a little bit more brightly than usual. "Economically, it would be more efficient for us to share the cost of an apartment."

Economically...

"Oh my GOD," you shouted more at yourself than anything, "I'm an idiot." Your hand made a weak attempt to smack against your forehead, and just kind of gently bumbled into it instead. It quickly fell, bringing with it a refreshed face. "Okay," you accepted with a short sigh and a nod, feeling a simultaneous relief and... something else, stirring a little deeper inside you. "I see where you're coming from now. And, um... I mean, yeah! I'm all for splitting rent; that's a win-win situation I can get behind."

You offered Liam an encouraging smile, and he did his best to return it, definitely keeping a keen dedication to his offer. "And, like..." You idly continued, then gasped suddenly. "Oh! I can drive you straight to the campus, too! _And_ we won't have to travel between apartments to study and... Yeah!" you reconfirmed for him, energetically shaking his shoulders as you considered this. It wore off, though, as less-positive thoughts crept into your head. "Oh, but," you said awkwardly, and trailed off as it all occurred to you.

There... was definitely a lot to think about in terms of sleeping arrangements, closet space, bathroom etiquette... a LOT of stuff you were belatedly realizing was what kept you from ever keeping a roommate before. Stuff that could very well prevent you from bunking with Liam.

But...

Liam looked so sure in front of you. Sure and, if you were an accurate judge after only a couple hours together, even _excited_ to move in with his new friend, probably for nothing more complicated or human than just a mutually efficient living arrangement.

And, you told yourself brightly, if anyone would have a legitimate plan for what to do at any of the feasible obstacles you really didn't want to start thinking about, it was him. You'd only met him earlier today, and yet... the level of trust you had for him was through the roof. It made you a little worried, honestly, because there had to be some kind of awful flaw hiding behind all those good traits -- but you weren't going to write him off on a dumb suspicion. He'd done nothing so far to deserve it.

"...Tell you what, little buddy," you said despite only being a couple inches taller than him. "It's getting kind of late, I'm a little worn out for the day, and I bet you still have plenty of stuff to square away with like, your lease and everything, never mind packing up your belongings -- but!" you said energetically. "Since it's the weekend, first thing tomorrow morning I promise to drive right over and help you with whatever needs doing. Like a good friend should." It was both an assurance to Liam, and a reminder for yourself. "Sound like a plan?"

"Yes."

You smiled, and giggled too, because even when you knew to expect it, his abrupt manner of speaking still caught you off guard. "Glad to hear it. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright."

And, despite everything in you that said you probably shouldn't, you entirely planned to.


	3. Doubt

You woke up the next morning wondering what the hell you were thinking.

Returning home and preparing for sleep had been easy enough, and so had the serene period during which your mind drifted off, blissfully unconcerned with schoolwork for a change -- but once your consciousness returned, it did so with a merciless vengeance.

You tried to find the same tranquility which let you agree to Liam moving in with you last night, but found all of it replaced by worry and panic. Which was _really frustrating_ , because you were almost certain you still trusted Liam, but now your brain was calling into question everything about your decision. Even him.

That you also awoke in a cold sweat struck you as a bad omen, but for having already forgotten last night's dreams, you chose to believe it was unrelated to the worry plaguing your mind. Sporadic nightmares were par for the course with you.

You nearly spiraled into further panic upon seeing the time on your phone, but stopped yourself once you recalled having never set an explicit time to arrive. 7:34 wasn't that bad, all things considered; it certainly wasn't the latest you had slept in during your career as a college student.

A quick shower and a bowl of peaches-and-cream flavored instant oatmeal saw you in a slightly better mood, but that subtle dread still lurked deep in your gut. It was a nasty, vicious sensation that took tremendous joy in spelling out how stupid you were for not only inviting someone to your home the same day you met them, but agreeing to move in together less than five hours later.

You tried to assert the credibility of Liam to yourself in retaliation -- that you only trusted him so much because he _was_ trustworthy -- but that just made it worse: your doubts sunk their claws even deeper into your gut, holding you hostage as they reminded you in excruciating detail of all the times you _thought_ you knew someone, and were proven so horribly wrong that the least painful option was to permanently cut all ties with them. That some of those people had been romantic interests was just an extra twist of the knife.

By the time you got into your car, you were visibly shaking, practically on autopilot as your brain frantically tried to figure out how best to tell Liam you weren't ready to move in together -- partly to appease your doubts, and partly to make you feel more prepared by the time you arrived.

With GPS on your phone, and the ability to reselect previously-entered destinations, the trip was uneventful and short. As you pulled up to Liam's apartment complex however, you also realized a nagging fear had wormed its way into your heart, working together with your doubt such that you now hesitated to retract your decision, and felt utterly worthless over being so shaken over your new "friend." And, God; you hadn't noticed it until now, but you were even starting to question _that._

You forced yourself to exit your car before too many thoughts could manifest about Liam only being your friend out of pity, or because he didn't understand friendship well enough to know how terrible a friend you'd make, or -- you shook your head to dismiss these thoughts, and for a moment it helped; but if there was anything you were a lifelong expert at, it was having an uncompromisingly negative opinion of yourself.

When you got to Liam's door, it took every ounce of strength within you just to knock, for sake of not bolting away and never returning. A life in the next city over wouldn't be so bad; it would just take some getting used to, and you already had significant practice after moving here from your hometown.

The seconds that ticked by as you waited for Liam were agonizing and slow, but the moment you tried to quell your anxiety by counting them, the door opened.

"Hello," he said in that same monotone voice as before. _Because you aren't worth an eager response,_ whispered an all too familiar part of yourself.

You forced a smile, and waved as you said "Hey," back. _Even your greetings are unimaginative._ You swallowed hard, and opened your mouth to start fabricating a reason that he couldn't move in ( _which you entirely failed to on the drive here_ ), but Liam spoke first.

"You look troubled," he noticed effortlessly.

Something inside you froze at that, and you noted with a rebellious spark of glee that it was your doubts, scared of being seen or dissected by an outside source. They quickly resumed control, however, and you awkwardly laughed, assuring Liam that it was no big deal.

He responded, "Even small deals are worth acknowledging and sorting out."

Again, a temporary freeze, but this time you were able to act of your own volition before it recovered. "We can sort it out after you're all moved in."

It was a boldly stupid sentence, and you immediately paid the price for it with the mass-generation of every horrible self-directed insult your mind could conjure up -- _stupid, worthless, unloved, spineless, failure_ \-- yet it was still a small victory for you. Not because you had in any way dispelled the doubts that still crept upon Liam's image, but because, if you had any good traits to speak of, it was a moronically uncompromising level of integrity. The kind that would not only allow but _force_ you to do anything you said you would, and that only became stronger the more you assured others of your plans to take a particular course of action.

It was probably the only reason you had driven over here at all; without it, you probably _would_ have fled to another city by now.

Liam, for his part, looked uncertain about your answer, but by the time you noticed it he moved on. "Are you prepared for me to move in today?"

 _No._ "Yes! Er, have you already gotten out of your lease, then?"

For a moment, suspiciously, he looked back at the empty hall behind him. "...Yes," he concluded.

"...That easy, huh?" _Sure;_ he _probably uses his brain, after all._

Liam shrugged. "It helps when your landlord is a family friend."

Oh. Oh! "Shoot, I'm sorry," you apologized, squeezing your arms against your chest, "I didn't know I'd be taking you away from supporting a family friend like this." _You never do think of anyone but yourself, do you?_

Liam looked at you quizzically. "I was the one who asked to move in with you," he reminded you. "And even had I not, she is very understanding, if..." Liam's eyes drifted to the side for a moment as he fished for the right words. "...Unapologetically nosy."

You barely had time to process that before a middle-aged woman, neatly dressed in dark purple business attire and sporting a professional haircut, walked out from the living room hallway. "Oh, hush," she said with a pout, as though her very presence had not entirely proven Liam's point. "I just wanted to see who it is that was so _interesting_ you couldn't help but move in with them the day after you met."

Oh! Good!! Because you needed more people to not only know what you had agreed to, but how contextually idiotic it was too!!! _It's what you deserve._

"I hope you do not mind," Liam told you, just the tiniest bit meek. "Part of our agreement to let me break my lease early was her getting to meet you."

"And," the woman chimed in, walking up until she could place a hand on Liam's shoulder, "by the way he lamented not asking your number, so as to let you know about me sooner, I knew you had to be something special."  _If only she knew how wrong she was._

"I-I'm really not," you assured her, finding no success in dismissing whatever your self-doubt compelled you to say. The woman immediately shook her head.

"Now, now," she admonished, "there's no need to be so modest, hon. You are the first friend and soon-to-be flatmate of our precious little Liam, after all. And you convinced him into both the same day you met! If that doesn't speak of your excellence as a person, then I don't know what would."

"Well, um, it w-was really Liam who convinced me," you offered, finding it difficult to look anywhere but at your feet. _Of course you can't be respectful enough to look her in the eye._

"Even better!" the woman beamed, clapping her hands together. "You're so amazing that even Liam couldn't resist the chance to shack up with you!"

It occurred to you that convincing this woman you weren't an angel sent directly from heaven would be impossible. Which, you realized with a tangible amount of guilt, you were not completely unwilling to accept. Every part of you that wasn't continuing to insist upon your lack of worth eagerly clung to the idea that, maybe, you actually were a good person, worth your place on this Earth. _But of course, you know that can't be true. If it was, you wouldn't constantly feel so--_

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed suddenly, drawing you back out of yourself. "Where are my manners? I'm Linda," she said with practiced grace, offering you her hand and gripping yours firmly the moment you thought to meet it. "Would you mind if Liam packed his things into your car while we talk? You should already know he doesn't have much in the way of personal belongings; heck," she chuckled, "your car will probably be _lighter_ by the time he's done."

"Uh," was all you could manage at first, before squeaking out a, "Sure?"

Linda immediately whisked you inside past Liam, energetically leading you by the hand she never let go of until you were seated across from her at the dining room table, an ornate cup of tea sitting on a matching saucer in front of both of you.

"Don't worry about packing up the cups," Linda said as she held up her half of the gilded porcelain. "They're mine, not Liam's -- heck, I'd be surprised if he owned anything half as non-utilitarian as these, anyhow."

Processing that, you barely had time to look down at your drink, let alone register that it actually smelled _really_ good, before Linda set her own cup back down with an audible clink. An impossibly giddy smile greeted you as you looked back up, but then fell away behind a polite, covered-mouth cough. "I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "I must seem so unprofessional right now, strong-arming you into a conversation like this, and without so much as the decency to give you advance notice -- but I just can't help my excitement!" Her voice, and even the slight jubilant shaking of her arms, made her seem like an optimistic toddler trapped in a grown woman's body. "Do you have any idea how invigorating it is to be sitting around, bored out of your gourd as you answer the same six e-mails as always on a lonely Friday night, when out of nowhere a young man as sweet and polite as Liam enters your office and tells you he plans to move in with his new friend?"

You couldn't even open your mouth to stutter out a reply before Linda thundered on, not waiting for a response. "Oh, I can still feel my heart soaring even now, just thinking about it. And I'm not even the lucky gal he's made friends with!" By the way she looked you, you could tell Linda was encouraging you to be happy, if reading into the situation a little too deeply.

"I really didn't do anything special," you assured her, running your hand through your hair as a visual excuse for not meeting Linda's gaze. "Just offered him a drink in return for helping me with my classes." _You might as well have done nothing at all._

"A drink is still something," Linda informed you, "and clearly, if it wasn't more than anyone else has done for Liam, it _meant_ more."

You wondered for a moment how this woman could care so deeply about Liam despite not being related to him, unconvinced that she wasn't secretly his overbearing mother -- but then, you remembered all the trust you had already placed in him, far more quickly than you had ever trusted anyone before. Maybe, a microscopic-but-growing spark of hope reasoned, he really was as wholesome as first impressions indicated.

Linda continued speaking before your doubts could shoot you down. "Either's fine, I hope you understand. And, heck, if I'm being honest, this one-on-one isn't even a personal evaluation of your character; Liam may be a little unorthodox in how he goes about life, but he's not a fool by any means. If he thinks you're superb enough to move in with after a single night of studying together, I'm willing to support his decision completely."

"It, r-really isn't like that," you managed, cheeks growing warm at the implications riding on her words.

"Are you sure?" Linda pressed. _Are you?_

You... really weren't. Especially not with all the ways you could feel your insides twisting around, some not as unpleasant as others, but none of them especially clear or forthright. Linda boisterously chuckled and continued before you could form a legitimate answer, however. "I'm just teasing you," she confessed, "and frankly, I know better than to pretend it's any of my business, anyhow. But with a curious soul like mine, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet Liam's first friend! And I'm sure, were his parents around, they'd both want to do the same."

"Oh," you said, blinking, "do his parents live another state, too?" You'd figured Liam might have family here, more than you at any rate, but if not it was at least something to connect over.

Linda visibly balked at the question, then frowned, uneasy. She tried to smile again immediately after, but it was practically an even more somber visage. "I suppose even Liam wouldn't have been able to tell you everything in one night. Especially if you didn't explicitly ask; boy never tells anyone anything if they don't ask him directly." She let out a heavy sigh, and your heart began sinking immediately. "But, they're, ah..."

You swallowed nervously, certain you knew where Linda was headed with this, but unable to find the strength to tell her she didn't have to continue. _Only you could be so painfully stupid and wrong with your assumptions._

"...They've been resting peacefully for some years now," Linda eventually managed. "Liam could tell you in greater detail if you really want to know, and with less blubbering than I'm capable of; kid's mind's as solid as a rock when it comes to stuff that'd shake any other human. As you might've guessed, I've been the closest thing Liam has to a mother since their... untimely departure, although with how busy I usually am, it's not like I'm a much better replacement."

"I'm sure you're doing your best," you immediately told her, leaning forward and gripping the table, as if prepared to physically lunge for and catch Linda. So far though, only her expression had fallen.

Linda's smile, which had disappeared while she spoke, returned nearly as brightly as it had before. "And she cares about strangers, too," she said with a wistful note. "You really are a good catch."

Much of you, inside and out, locked up at that, but you did manage to look bashfully off to the side as you sat back again. "I just think someone as passionate as you can't possibly be doing anything _but_ their best." _If only the same could be said of you._

You heard another chuckle, and turned to see Linda stifling a laugh. She looked at you with eyes holding a sort of unfiltered joy, which nearly seemed out of place alongside her 'business first' attire. "You know, Liam has said almost the exact same thing to me before, if with a different vocabulary. It might even be true, then; he certainly has a knack for finding the good in people, even when they have almost none to speak of. It really is no wonder you're his first friend if you see people in the same light."

You thought about that, and what Liam had told you about helping other students, even the ones that didn't care about learning the material so much as copying down all the answers. Students like Bruce.  _Students like you, no matter how much you tell yourself otherwise._

A sudden tap on your shoulder had you nearly jumping out of your skin, but you settled for just rigidly turning back to see Liam behind you.

"I have finished packing," he declared, not even a hint of triumph or exhaustion in his words.

Linda chuckled again. "He's stronger than he looks, you know," she told you, and tapped her head. "Inside and out."  _That makes one of you._ "Oh, heck, and I didn't even let you get a chance to try the tea, talking your ear off like I have."

"Oh, i-it's alright, really," you started, but Linda shook her head.

"No ma'am, it is not," she asserted. "Of course, I don't intend to force you to drink it if tea's not your thing, but the least I could do is let you actually  _drink_ the stuff I prepared for you."

Following her own advice, Linda gently took her cup and began to politely sip at it, noiseless and serene as she closed her eyes. A wave of relaxation seemed to wash over her, as though she had just taken a powerful and calming sedative, ready now to drift off in a blissful slumber.

Admittedly, her display made you curious, and you decided to try the tea for yourself. Just a sip, you thought, not wanting to keep Liam waiting, but then the drink actually met your taste buds. You had to physically resist the urge to gulp it all down in one swallow, despite how cold it had gotten from sitting out so long.

It was... earthy, but not bitter; saccharine, but not sugary; and contained hints of a few accenting flavors, a sharp and refreshing mint being the most prominent.

More importantly, though, it rapidly brought the constant churning of your insides to a near standstill, quieting the harsh voices that fought for control in your head and seeming to perk up your senses all the while. It brought to mind memories of everything you had tried to lend yourself an inner peace, tea making being just one of many such activities.

"It's really good," you told Linda with a smile, genuine and barely suppressing a happy laugh. "Definitely better than anything I've brewed before."

"Practice makes perfect," she said humbly. "Which I'm eternally grateful for, because otherwise I'd have gone insane telling renters how to restart their routers with only lousy tea to keep me company."

You turned back to Liam, who was still standing patiently behind you, hands tucked neatly into his hoodie pocket. "Want some?" you offered, feeling a distinct desire to share.

He shook his head. "I have already been given three cups before you arrived."

"And you're always welcome to more," Linda said in her most motherly voice yet.

"I am presently satisfied in both thirst and taste, thank you."

You fought to stifle a giggle, which was easier when Liam looked at you again. "Sorry," you said quickly, "you're just... really blunt."

"Oh, honey," Linda chuckled, "If you're only noticing that now, just wait until you've lived with him for a week. He'll have noticed, analyzed, and pointed out all your flaws, _and_ offered multiple constructive solutions to every single one of them."

"I value self-improvement," Liam defended, albeit without a defensive tone.

"I know you do, Liam. I've acted as your adoptive mother long enough to know that much. Now, go on, the both of you, before I change my mind about letting you leave your rented nest so soon."

You quickly downed the rest of your tea on a whim, for sake of not letting it go to waste, and set the cup back on its saucer. It didn't give you quite as much of an energizing flush as the first taste, but its effect was still strong, reinforcing the good it had already done for you.

"Thank you for the tea!" you called back to Linda as you and Liam walked out the front door. Outside, you noticed for the first time today how sunny it was, and silently basked in the gentle warmth of the sun's rays while walking to your car. It was still slightly chilly, given how early it was in the morning, but the air out here felt no colder than inside the apartment.

You noted with moderate surprise that, somehow, Liam had managed to fit all his belongings into the back seat of your car. He must have, given that you didn't leave the trunk open. His food was less neatly packed than the rest of his belongings, sitting in plastic bags rather than boxes, but otherwise everything was neatly stacked together in what you could only assume was a structurally-sound arrangement of _stuff_. As you slid into the driver's seat, though, you couldn't help but let a few questions bubble up.

"Were you keeping all that food in your room?" you asked, concerned for him letting his milk sit out for however long it took you to get here.

"No," Liam said without feeling, but then added, "Did you not see me retrieve any foods from my fridge while you talked with Linda?"

You had not, and instantly felt a little foolish for it. "Sorry," you said sheepishly, "I... must've gotten a little distracted." You refrained from mentioning that it wasn't Linda's voice that had distracted you.

"It is alright," Liam assured you. "Linda often refers to my movements as 'ghostlike,' so it is not surprising that I would go so undetected."

"Hehe. It's not hard to believe." You started the engine, buckling your seat belt as an afterthought, and began driving. "So what all do you got in those boxes back there?" you asked, nodding to the back seat.

Liam looked at you with a bemused expression. "Are the images on the boxes unclear?"

They weren't, and in fact they were strangely immaculate, as if each box had been opened and sealed closed again with gentle care. It hadn't occurred to you that the boxes with a desk and chair on them might literally have nothing more than a desk and chair inside them.

"Wait, did you... disassemble your chair?" you asked, not hiding your incredulous tone. You could believe the desk, to an extent, but who the hell could take apart a chair the same way they put it together?

"I did, as well as the desk," he confirmed. It occurred to you that this was Liam you were talking to, and this was not surprising information.

You playfully nudged him with your elbow. "Handy little dude, huh?"

"Keeping the provided instructions and tools made it a very simple matter," he stated matter-of-factly.

Did he have  _any_ concept of things being difficult or tedious? "You're stronger-willed than most, then. Nobody in my family ever keeps the instructions around after they build something out of a box."

Liam made a remark about how foolish that was, but you found yourself distracted from it by an obtrusive stray thought.  _I'm really doing this,_ it said in your voice, because for the first time you realized that you really, truly were. This wasn't something that got stuck at the idle fantasy level, where plans to live with all your friends in a mansion and drive across the country in a homely RV often got stuck; once you stopped driving and helped move everything out of your car, you and someone else -- you and a _new friend_ \-- would be living together, until an as-of-yet undetermined date in the future.

It was surreal to think about, and it must have showed, because you felt Liam's hand on your arm. "Please do not crash," he requested.

You hadn't been drifting off the road, nor were you on a collision course for another vehicle -- you did the autopilot thing with scary efficiency, sometimes -- but you knew from past experiences the look you would get whenever you grappled with your thoughts too intently. "Sorry," you said with a small laugh, as it sunk in how politely he had expressed his personal safety concerns. "I just got caught up in thinking."

And right now, your thinking told you things were going to be alright. Even if they weren't, you'd make do. You were sure you would.

After all, you had Liam in your life now.


	4. Efficient

An unfamiliar sense of peace settled within you by the time you finished helping Liam unpack, a process that took a mere two trips from the car, and maybe ten minutes to get everything out of their respective boxes. Normally, weekends were a time for sleeping in, finishing up any leftover homework, and maybe doing some grocery shopping later in the day. To not be doing any of those things, _and_ feel at ease, was a new experience -- one you welcomed as readily as you had Liam.

Speaking of whom, you still needed to sort out... everything.

"So," you spoke up from where you sat on your bed, idly kicking your feet. Liam looked up from the pieces of desk he was carefully putting together. "I didn't really devote a lot of time to figuring it out between last night and this morning, but. Do you, um. Have any preferences for, like... anything?"

Liam furrowed his brow, probably because that was the vaguest fracking question anyone had ever asked him. "Yes."

"Okay, cool," you said with a nod, trying to seem smoother than you were. "More specifically though, I mean like... do you care whether we eat together, or -- or where you sleep, that's important, since your last bed belonged to the apartment? Cause, y'know, I imagine you don't wanna just sleep on the sofa while you're here, or at least not all the time, and honestly I'd feel bad if you did -- OH, maybe we could swap between sofa and bed every other night, since we'll both be paying rent, and this bed also came with the apartment, so we'll like... get a fair share of what we're paying for, with splitting the rent, and." You stopped to take a breath, and lost the strength to continue rambling.

Liam had less trouble. "Could we not just share the bed?" he asked, visibly confused.

"I... that's what I was just saying, wasn't it?" Wasn't it??

He shook his head. "I mean every night."

You did your best to hide your own confusion with a lopsided smile. "That's... isn't that still?? ...Wait, oh. Oh! Oh you mean -- like sleeping in it at the same...? Uh. Uh!" Your heart caught in your throat, and you started laughing, loudly, as a defense mechanism against not being even remotely prepared for that option.

Liam looked at you with a lost expression. Then, he looked down, and started silently mouthing his past few statements to himself, probably trying to figure out what he said that was so funny.

"I mean!" you said between laughs, drawing his attention again, then stopped laughing altogether. Your cheeks were hot. "I'm not?? Opposed! To that. I guess, I just, I wasn't. Really. Expecting to do that so soon. Is all." You coughed, a somewhat obviously fake cough.

A calm shrug rolled through Liam's shoulders. "It just seemed the most efficient arrangement, in terms of sharing heat and space."

You blinked, feeling weightless for a moment. "Efficient..." you parroted with a slightly cooler face. "Right. Of course." That was why he wanted to move in, after all. Efficiency. Nothing else.

He returned his attention to the desk -- a largely vertical construct, he had assured you, that did not take up much space when assembled -- and you thought about how much more sense all this made when viewed through Liam's eyes. You were alright with letting him set up his computer in your room because, well, there weren't any other bedrooms in your apartment, and it seemed, you guess... impersonal to make him set it up in the living room. You were going to be living together, after all; if you couldn't stand just sitting in the same room while using your respective computers, this whole living arrangement would never work anyway.

Besides. You were the one with the laptop, who could easily move somewhere else if you really needed to. It _made sense_ for Liam to set up his things in your bedroom. It was  _sensible,_ and little more than a  _not unreasonable_ arrangement between friends, and oh who the hell were you kidding, just thinking about it made your heart flutter faster than a hummingbird, and you still barely knew him.

 _You can fix one of those things,_ chimed a new part of yourself, more optimistic than the last. It wasn't wrong.

"So, hey," you called, catching Liam's gaze again. "What do you usually like to do for fun?" That was basically number one on the list of things friends were supposed to know about each other.

He thought on it for a moment, considering the organized mess in front of him. "I derive sufficient enjoyment from doing anything that needs to be done." Currently, though, all Liam was _doing_ was tightening the screws on one of the desk's legs.

"You don't, like, do anything for the express purpose of having fun?"

He shook his head once. "No."

Despite expecting the answer, you balked. "How can you not...?" You shook your head. "What do you do when there's nothing else to do?"

Liam indicated the pieces of desk. "There is always something to do."

You tried for a moment to respond to that, but got hung up drinking in the implications.  _Does he never rest or relax? It's no wonder his voice is so lifeless..._

"You can't possibly always be busy," you eventually got out.

"No," he conceded. "But there is still always more to do."  _All work and no play..._

This wasn't surprising information, not technically, but something still made you uneasy thinking about it. You felt more certain than ever that you were going to walk in on Liam some day with a panel open on his chest, full of wires and flashing lights, with him just calmly reaching inside and saying, "Routine maintenance."

"Doesn't that... get tiring, or stressful? Just, always working towards something or other, and never taking some personal time to sit back and  _relax?"_

Another, polite shrug. "I try to pace myself. And I have never felt the explicit need to relax."  _Oh, honey._

"Well, _yeah,_ " you said while rolling your eyes, "probably because you've never done it. How would you even _know_ if you needed to relax?"

It was a little presumptuous on your part, but apparently, that was the sentence you needed to say all along; Liam stopped building his desk for a moment, considering your words. "...Hm," he muttered after a good few seconds of silence, before resuming his task. "I had not considered that."  _Score one for healthful indulgence!_

Admittedly, you felt a little giddy. It was one thing to successfully convince someone of, well, anything, but it was another to do that with someone who was obviously smarter than you.  _Not that you aren't smart in your own right, pumpkin. Everyone's a genius, if you know what to quiz them on._

You began kicking your feet again as neither of you said anything else for a while, instead lapsing into a comfortable silence -- save for the sounds of desk parts slowly becoming a single, cohesive thing. Liam managed to get the base of his desk assembled and upright before you remembered why you had started talking to begin with. "So, what's an average day like for you? As in, what do you normally do -- what all happens between waking up and going to sleep on a given day?"

"It depends on the day, and the classes scheduled for it, but." He paused a moment to make sure two pieces were aligned correctly. "...Most days, I attend school, consume calories as needed, assist any students who ask it of me, and do my own work at home."

You held silent, fruitlessly waiting for him to continue. "And... that's it? You can't possibly only be doing schoolwork at home, not with how fast you are. I'm a slow slug and you got  _me_ done hours ahead of schedule."  _A vibrant and colorful sea slug, if anything._

"I do other work," Liam confirmed. "I am known on several internet portals for my periodic contributions to independent coding projects."

You blinked. "Wait, so you just... make code? For a bunch of different people, right from your computer? For money, right?" you hastily added, not wanting people to take advantage of Liam through the internet any more than in person.

He took a moment to consider all of your questions. "I typically rewrite and optimize preexisting code, rather than creating my own; something the majority of the portals' communities turn to me for the most. I accept payment as offered, but otherwise do not charge for my services. I value the spread of knowledge and efficiency over financial gain."  _Ooh, intelligent_ and _generous! He's a keeper._

Despite it maybe being a little fiscally dangerous, you whistled appreciatively. Liam really had his whole life figured out: he had his own job-slash-hobby, an education that he was expertly tending to, and more than a few decent life morals to boot. And that was only what you knew from less than a day's interaction. "You really are a cool little dude, you know that?"

Liam shrugged. "I do what makes sense to me."

"Well, you're really good at doing stuff that makes sense to me, too."

You meant it as a compliment, but for some reason, Liam seemed to get caught up on that. He hesitated with the desk for a moment -- but only a moment, resuming work with it the next as though he never stopped. "Not many share that opinion."

An uncomfortable frown slid onto your face. "What do you mean? Do people... not think the stuff you do makes sense?"

"No," he confirmed. "They do not."  _Aw, now that's just sad._

Admittedly, you had been a little thrown off before by some of the things he did -- things like eerily watching you cut up fruit, or buying a bland and limited selection of food -- but he had valid reasons for all of them, unorthodox though they might be.

But maybe that was it: not everyone bothered to ask  _why_ he did stuff that didn't immediately make sense.

"Well," you huffed, crossing your arms, "then they're wrong."

"Linda seemed to think so, too," Liam acknowledged, but he didn't sound convinced.

"Because it's true!" you asserted, defending Liam to himself. "I might not perfectly understand all the stuff you say or do right away, but that doesn't mean it doesn't make sense. It just means we think differently. And that's, y'know, kind of true of everyone. Being different doesn't inherently make you wrong."

"I know," Liam assured you. "Just as popularity does not always indicate truth. I cannot simply disregard anyone who disagrees with me, however; to do so would be to ignore a chance to learn, be it mine or theirs."  _An altruist through and through, if ever there was one._

You took a moment to think about how this conversation went from you just trying to learn about Liam, to a deeply heavy philosophical discussion.  _Not that using another part of your noggin is a bad thing. Go ahead; add to the pot._

"...I think I get why Linda thought you could see the good in anyone." You could feel the gears turning in your head, not struggling so much as steadily churning, as you thought about it more and more. "Not because you look for it, but because... you can see everything that's there, good and bad. Right?"

Liam afforded you a prim nod, albeit while focused on the desk. "It is a fair evaluation."

Still, you continued thinking. "You've got a lot less bias than most people too, I think. And you don't assume so much as them either, which lets you see people for who they are. Who they  _objectively_ are." A pause caught you, but passed quickly as you didn't struggle in its grasp. "You must have like, probably a godly level of patience, I bet," which you realized might be why he could (dis)assemble his furniture so casually, even now.

Still, they were the kind of traits that you felt virtually anyone could recognize as 'good to have,' but that weren't necessarily as easy to have or keep. Admittedly, you felt a little inadequate on some of them, and more than a little envious of the shining examples set before you.

Liam flipped a shelf upside-down, not a self-defeating care in the world, and started screwing things into it. "I do what I can to be the best me I can."

"Well," you said as you slid off your bed, before padding over to Liam. Unconcerned with grace or subtlety, you plopped down behind him, and pulled him into a hug. "I think you're doing a great job."

Liam remained silent for a few moments, only his calm breathing reaching your ears as he failed to continue working. "...Thank you."

A couple more moments of silence passed, and then a few more, during which you slowly realized Liam wasn't building the desk anymore. Which, you then realized, was probably because he couldn't comfortably reach anything while you had him pulled backward into a hug. "Oh, sorry," you apologized, releasing him, "I'll get out of your way."

"No," he said with the most suddenness you'd heard from him yet, shoulders visibly tensing. They relaxed almost immediately afterward. "I was not hindered," he explained. "Just... thinking."

Liam said nothing else, a little difficult to read while you could only see the back of his head, but you were pretty certain on the followup he never made.

Silently, you slipped your arms back around him, leaning forward more to give him more room with his work. Maybe he wasn't trying to ask for another hug the way you thought he was, but he didn't make any moves to stop you. Same difference, you figured.

Besides. Everyone needs a good hug now and then, if they want to be the best them they can.


End file.
